


The Last Dance

by mysterysiria



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1940s, Alternate Universe - Human, Arranged Marriage, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Family Drama, Heavy Angst, Jerk Steve Rogers, Kid Bruce Banner, Kid Bucky Barnes, Religious Content, Sexist Language, Smut, Teen Angst, Teen Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-13
Updated: 2019-02-11
Packaged: 2019-09-17 14:42:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16976505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mysterysiria/pseuds/mysterysiria
Summary: 1940s post-war era. Steve and Bucky are brothers and are teenagers, and they never served in the army because they were too young to join during the war. You find out you’re pregnant with Steve’s baby. Both Steve’s and your parents arrange for you and Steve to get married, but Steve declines. Ultimately, his father offers his other son, James (later known as Bucky), to marry you in Steve’s place.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This is my entry to a writing challenge on Tumblr, with a dialogue prompt: "Are you flirting with me?"
> 
> Some characters from the MCU will appear in this universe/era (e.g. Bruce Banner appears in this series as your little brother, so he shares your last name).

Summer 1939. Red House, New York.

Y/N Y/L/N was selling lemonade in the park for 15 cents a glass. Every other kid was playing with a loose water hose. At the corner of her eyes, she noticed a young boy her age, seated on a bench alone. He wasn’t sulking or anything, just watching the other kids play. Then she grabbed a fresh glass of lemonade and walked up to him.

“Hi. Do you want some lemonade? This one’s on the house.” The 10-year old girl offered the brunet-haired boy. 

He glanced at her judgingly when he muttered, “Are you flirting with me?”

“No. Why?” she asked, expressing confusion on her face.

“My brother told me that if a girl gives me something, it means she’s flirting with me.”

The little girl laughed and placed the glass of lemonade beside the boy. “It’s just a glass’o lemonade. I’m selling these so I could buy the new Frank Sinatra record,” she stated with sparkling eyes. The boy accepted the glass of lemonade, his face still a questioning look.

“If you’re sellin’ lemonade, then why are you givin’ this to me?”

She shrugged. “I’ve made more than enough for the day. Don’t you want it?” The boy glared at her under the scorching sun, then drank the glass of lemonade.

“It’s good,” he remarked. “Thanks…er,” he trailed off to catch her name. The lemonade girl proudly announced her name. Then he responded with his.

“Bucky.”

“If you want more, I’m just at my lemonade stand. But no more freebies this time, Bucky,” she said with smiling eyes and mouth. 

“I thought you said you’ve made enough money?”

“I’m runnin’ a business here, pal. Oh! And tell your brother,” she said as she started stepping away. “He knows nothing about girls.”

Summer. Eight years later.  
You couldn’t believe your ears. You had yourself checked by a gynecologist. You were only eighteen, and already three weeks pregnant. The world in your head felt like it was narrowing as you tried to digest the fact that a fetus has formed in your belly. How are you going to tell Steve? Your mother? Oh god, your father? What would your siblings think?

You’re the eldest of three children, spawns of a retired military man. Your mother, a devout Christian. You were born into an ideal family, really, but what happened to you wasn’t ideal. Especially not in 1946. You frowned in shame in front of your doctor, but she assured you that you’re not the only one in this predicament. With that thought, you came home, bothered in your head as you tried to contemplate on how to tell your parents about your unborn baby. And of course, your boyfriend and the father of your child, Steve. 

Steven Grant Barnes.

The two of you have been together for a year. After he smoothed his way into your heart for three months, you finally gave in. Steve was the promising son in his family. The top student in school. He worked hard in being accepted at the University of Oxford. Both of you were upcoming seniors that year. Steve was no ordinary scholar. He practically didn’t need to finish his senior year. You, on the other hand, still had a year to go before graduation. At this rate, you don’t know if finishing high school was still an option.

You knew Steve had so much to lose if your father was going to force him to marry you. But you don’t know yet for sure. Steve loves you. He’s proven that lots of times already.

You called him at home and asked him to pick you up. He was more than happy to oblige and he arrived in your lawn in under twenty minutes. You told your mom that you were going to have dinner with Steve.

He drove a blue Ford pickup truck where you spent most of your steamy makeout sessions. You didn’t wait for him to honk in your street so you rushed downstairs. He kissed you as soon as you hopped in.

“Hey, beautiful. I was surprised you invited me out today. I thought you were busy?” He hit the gas when you smiled at him.

“Well, I thought I just,” you muttered, keeping your gaze at your blonde boyfriend. “Needed to get out. Can we go to that nice little cafe we went to last time?”

“Sure darling,” Steve said then held your hand. “Is everything alright? I thought you sounded…off on the phone.” Your heart started pounding, slowly, however. You scooted across the seat and clung to him, resting your head on his shoulder.

“I’m ok, sweetie. Just glad you’re here,” you whispered. Steve’s grip on your hand tightened, assuring you that everything will turn out okay. He’ll be a good father. You said in your head with a smile.

Moments later, you arrived at the cafe and order your dinner. The cafe had a small dance floor, where Steve invited you to dance on with him. The two of you enjoyed the night, having danced to a series of upbeat and spontaneous big band songs. When you finally got tired dancing, Steve took you back to his truck and drove to your favorite after-date spot, where you either made out or just cuddled together.

That night, you were doing both. It started with a cuddle in the center of the seat. You talked about random things and recalled how fun the dance you just had moments ago. His lips reached yours in no time when you both fell into silence just after laughing about a couple who danced silly at the cafe. His lips were warm on yours, feeling velvety in their every move. They left your lips to make their way to your neck. The sensation was getting overwhelming, your insides started to clench, aching for more friction in them. And then you remembered it.

“Steve? Sweetie?” He didn’t stop kissing your weak spot on your neck but whispered, “What is it darling? Talk to me.” His hands slid on your thighs and under your skirt. One of them was already reaching the warmest spot of your body. A finger, maybe two, started fiddling with your center, making you distracted from what you just remembered. You huffed a moan and mentally shook your head. You practiced saying it in front of the mirror as soon as you got home. You tried coming up with different ways, different phrases, perhaps, to soften the blow.

But there was only one way to say it.

“I’m pregnant.” His touches halted. It hasn’t been a full second since you’ve finally uttered the sentence you’ve been practicing to say in your head, but the silence was already feeling too long.

“What?” You were about to repeat what you said but Steve interrupted you. “Are you sure?” You nodded your head and said, “I went to the doctor today. My period was delayed.” His previously lust-blown face dropped. His hands slowly moved away from you as he shifted in his seat, looking anywhere else now but your eyes. Why did he have to stop holding me? You thought.

“I’m three weeks pregnant, Steve. I don’t feel a thing yet, but darling, we’re having a baby,” you cooed, reaching for his hands again, but he flinched.

“No, no, no. This can’t happen, Y/N.” He ran a hand through his blonde hair, worries painted in his face.

“What do you mean, Steve? Of course it can. We’ve been going at it like rabbits,” you remarked. It took you a second to remember how often you and Steve have stolen moments to fool around with each other.

His brows were drawn together when he stepped out of the truck. Your head hung over your shoulders. All of the assurance you had earlier was now gone. “Darling, please come back inside.” He paced back and forth and when he heard you call for him, he stepped inside the truck and turned on the ignition and drove away to take you back home.

“Aren’t you going to say anything all?”

He drew a sharp breath and without taking his eyes off the road, he said, “Just let me think.” The rest of the drive remained quiet. His hand no longer searching for yours. They remained on the gear shift or the wheel. The gap between you two in the truck felt bigger than it looked. You don’t like the silence you had now, so you turned on the radio, only to be shut quickly by him.

“I told you, I need to think, Y/N.” You turned away. He has never been this cold to you. Whenever you had fights, you always made up before the night ended. Of course, all of those were nothing compared to this. You didn’t fight, but the distance between you two suddenly appeared. This hurt you more having him argue with you.

The cold, silent treatment has never been something that Steve had given you before. He was always the one vocal and expressive of his thoughts. And it always bothered him when you argued until you got home. He would call you to apologize and sweep you off your feet before you went to bed. Sometimes he would drive in just to see you. One of those times even led to a spontaneous make-up sex in his truck.

When he pulled over to your lawn, his gaze remained forward even though it’s evident that you were looking at him and waiting for him to return your gaze. But he didn’t. You suddenly felt like you don’t know Steve anymore. This was not like him at all. His jaws clenched before finally uttering a word to you after being silent forever.

“Do your parents know?”

“No. You’re the first one I told.”

“When are you gonna tell ‘em?”

“Tomorrow.” He nodded. You couldn’t read his face, but it’s not how it was like when he picked you up earlier. You pulled the knob open, remembering that you didn’t kiss Steve goodnight, so you leaned towards him to give him a peck, but he turned his head to you and whispered, “Good night, Y/N.”

Something pointy stabbed your heart with the coldness of his ‘good night’. It was impossible that he didn’t see it in your eyes, but you saw what was in those perfectly bright blue eyes of his. Something unfamiliar to you. Something you’ve never seen in him before, or never noticed.

You barely had any energy to make a big deal of his behavior since he found out you were pregnant. All you had left to say was, “I want to keep the baby.” Then you hopped out of the truck. You remained standing on the sidewalk as you watched his truck drive away. You have never been more uncertain in your life than you were that night. Not just with how you’re going to keep the baby, how you’re going to tell your parents - but if Steve is still with you in all this.

You waited for Steve to call and swoon you over like he always did, but tonight, he broke that record. You didn’t want your family to hear you crying, so you played an Ella Fitzgerald record on your phonograph as you cried yourself to sleep.


	2. The Dinner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After telling Steve that you're pregnant, your next step was to tell your parents about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is where the sexist and also religious themes come in.

The next morning, you and your family sat quietly at the breakfast table as you gathered all your courage and voice to finally tell your parents. Your 9-year old little brother, Bruce, finished his cereals quickly and was sent upstairs to get ready for church. Now that you had your parents to yourself, you caught the attention of your father by holding his hand that’s resting on the table. His gaze at the newspaper shifted to you as soon as he felt your touch. And this action also caught your mother’s attention.

“Daddy?”

“Yes, sweetheart?” His voice was calm and patient.

“I have something to say to you…Mom, you too.” There’s no turning back now. You glanced at both of them before saying, “I’m pregnant with Steve’s baby.” You let it out quicker than you planned. Your father angrily shoved your hand away. Silence loomed over the breakfast table. You can feel the rage boiling upon your father’s face. His previously sweet gaze at you turned into a glare. “Mom?” She didn’t say anything but just looked at you, probably judging you for being knocked up at eighteen. “Daddy?”

A loud slap swung across your face, immediately bringing out tears from your eyes. “I’m sorry, Daddy!” You yelped. You began panting as your cries became louder.

“How could you be so careless? Irresponsible! Where did your mother and I ever go wrong in raising you for paying us back this way? With…with shame,” he bellowed, his voice full and gravelly. No matter how much you tried to apologize, nothing you could say was enough. No amount of apology was good enough. Not to your parents. Perhaps not even to God.

An hour later, you arrived at the church. You have never felt more guilty in your life, having to enter the church with your parents acting like everything’s ok, except when they look at you. You know they’re still mad and disappointed at you. As you walked inside the church, you kept your head low, but your eyes searched for Steve. He and his family also went to church every Sunday. Thoughts of his parents already knowing your condition played in your mind and as soon as you shook off the thought, Steve’s figure emerged in your sight. He and his family were seated in the front pews.

Just like you, Steve is their family’s first-born. Followed by James, a year later, and then Rebecca, four years after him. In the Barnes family, James was pretty much the black sheep. Being the only brunet-haired in their family, every so often you used to hear other kids teasing him being adopted. You always thought it was such a petty tease. Once in a while, you would give those kids a piece of your mind. You often saw James when you visited Steve at home, but you had never really made friends with him. He was timid and quiet. Sometimes you would see him in church, and sometimes not. Today, he was present and seated beside his brother.

Their sister Rebecca, better known as Becky, a blonde and blue-eyed beauty, sometimes hung out with you and Steve whenever you visited. Sometimes, you had girl talk with her. Looking at her, you now think how she must think of you after knowing about your condition. Would she still talk to you? Would she think it was your fault? You know that’s not true, but you can’t help but feel guilty and ashamed.

As you and your family were looking for a spacious pew to sit on, you let your brother sit beside your parents, making you the one seated farthest from them. Not that it was far enough, but it was worth it.

The service began shortly with a song of praise before Pastor Phil Coulson welcomed everyone attending. Of course, today, of all Sundays, the sermon was about premarital abstinence. You kept your head down for most of the service. However, the words of Pastor Phil did not hurt or offend you. It was something you didn’t expect but realized you needed at the moment.

Premarital sex is something that most couples do. It’s not as bad as it looks, because it makes couples bond intimately. It’s when a couple shares the love through a thorough physical act. And when a baby is conceived by a young woman, specifically a teenage girl, the pastor said, “Nevertheless, she must be loved equally as the daughter that remained chaste. For God loves all His daughters as He does all His sons.”

The sermon kept your breaths barely in check, as you noticed your father remained frozen in his seat during Pastor Phil’s very words, which commanded your parents to forgive you. They were considerate enough though, to not make it obvious that the sermon was about you. They were pretty good at pretending that nothing happened. That the former General’s daughter has gotten pregnant by her eighteen-year-old boyfriend, who had a promising future as a doctor.

When the service ended, everybody calmly exited the church, some of them greeted the pastor and praised him for a wonderful Sunday service. Your mother did the same before heading out of the church with your dad and brother. It was a very bright Sunday, that everybody’s hat was on point.

***

At the Barnes household at around 2 PM, Steve braved himself enough to tell his parents, George and Winifred, that you got pregnant with his baby. George was about to throw him a punch when his mother stopped him. He had never hit his children or his wife, and Winifred wasn’t about to let him start now. Steve was seated on the couch in the living room, his shoulders slumped in shame.

“You’re supposed to be smart, Steven. Not a fat-head who knocks up a poor young dame,” he paced in front of Steve. “We had plans for you, Steve!” George snapped.

“I can’t marry her, Dad,” Steve murmured.

“What did you say?”

“I can’t marry Y/N. I wanna go to Oxford. I wanna finish everything I’ve started,” Steve said sternly.

“Everything? Everything but this situation you’ve put yourself into?”

“I’m scared, Dad. I can’t. I can’t be a father yet.”

“You should’a thought’a that before getting Y/N up the duff! Jesus Christ, Steven!” Steve hid his face in his palms when his father continued, “The Barnes men always take responsibility for their actions, Steven. This, especially this, is no exception. You will man up and marry that poor girl.”

After that stressful conversation, Steve made a call to your house to ask permission from your father to have a meeting with his family. They invited you and your parents for dinner. Just when you thought things couldn’t get any worse, they decided to throw a dinner party for you and Steve, regardless of your current status with Steve - which was unclear for you at the moment.

The dinner was held at their house. Everything Winifred Barnes had cooked was scrumptious. From the Caesar salad down to her delectable chocolate brownies, it was easy to say why the Barnes siblings were all healthily good-looking. Their mother fed them well. 

In the dinner table, you sat on one end, on the corner of Steve’s seat on the tail of the table. Sitting beside you was your mother, then Steve’s mother, then on the head of the table, was Steve’s father, of course. On the other corner of George, seated your father. Beside your father sat your little brother, Bruce, beside him sat Rebecca, then beside Rebecca, was an empty chair and an untouched plate designated to James, who was not around for dinner.

Though you were seated beside Steve at the dinner table, you’ve never felt so distant from him. He has barely said a word to you or even looked at you all evening. When your head sunk down from your shoulders, his hand reached yours that was resting on your lap. Instantly, your face lit up and you felt as though a weight has been lifted off your shoulders. 

Steve’s parents mentioned his plans now that he has gotten into Oxford. Your face dropped again because it was highly likely that you will be raising your baby alone in your parents’ house while waiting for Steve to come home every holiday. And what about school? You probably won’t be finishing senior year considering you will be giving birth during spring the following year.

“We want the kids to be married as soon as possible.” Suddenly the voice of your father broke your train of thought.

“Of course. We want the same thing. Steven leaves for England in two weeks to prepare for college,” George concurred. “We must start preparing for the church wedding starting tomorrow.”

Your mother also added a suggestion, the conversation picking up a positive tone. Your heart skipped a beat when Steve let go of your hand and you noticed him staring at his plate.

“I can’t,” Steve said in a low voice but his voice was full and easily heard by every adult in the room, completely silencing the conversation.

“What did you say, boy?” Your father asked him in a threatening tone.

“I can’t,” he simply repeated and then looked at him in the eyes. “I can’t marry your daughter, sir. I’m sorry.” Firm and steady, his words made your heart drop and break into a million pieces. Doesn’t he love me at all? You quietly thought to yourself.

“Then what the hell are we doing here, George?” Your father grated him. “Did you teach your son to be a coward?” Steve quickly stood up from his seat and rushed upstairs to his room.

“Perhaps I failed my son, but at least I don’t teach my daughter to be a harlot.” Your father quickly stood from his seat and swung at George, causing him to fall down. You, the kids, and the mothers called the two men repeatedly to stop the ruckus. Some of the chairs fell over the floor as the fight began. One rushed to hit the other man, the woman nearest to the target also stood quickly to interfere. All of you were successful, however late. George Barnes had already taken a good hit from your father.

The moment that the fight had stopped, you followed Steve upstairs to talk to him. You knocked loudly at his door. “Steve? Let’s talk. Please.” He didn’t answer. Your gaze remained at the foot of the door. “Come on, baby. Please talk to me.” You’re getting worried because this was very unlikely of Steve. He has always been so courageous. He has never been one to quit when a challenge arises.

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” he finally responded, his voice muffled by the door. “I can’t marry you.” He said it again as if you didn’t hear it the first time downstairs. Saddened by his declaration, you were unable to utter a word. Tears just streamed across your face uncontrollably.

There were a million things you wanted to say. Words of anger. Profanity. Questions that you’ve been dying to ask since he turned cold towards you the night before. And new questions about his behavior now. Thankfully, before you headed downstairs, you managed to say, “Unbelievable. You can’t even say it to my face. You’re a coward, Steve.”

You wiped your tears from your face as you descended the stairs. When you reached the dining room, your parents were preparing to leave. Your mother looked at you in a way you understood that she was asking what Steve had said. You simply shook your head in disappointment.

Your father and Steve’s parents noticed your melancholic expression. “Thank you for the delicious dinner, Mrs. Barnes. Mr. Barnes. I’m sorry about all this.” Then you turned to your parents. “I’m gonna wait in the car,” you quietly announced. You didn’t wait for any of them to say something and walked out. You didn’t even notice your little brother looking worried and confused. Rebecca was no longer in the dining room.

The moment you shut the door, you started crying again. You felt like crying some more before your family would come out. You didn’t notice Steve’s brother, James, who was walking on the sidewalk coming from behind your father’s car.

With his hands on his jacket pockets and the tip of a toothpick coming out of his mouth, he stopped walking the moment he saw you coming out of his house, crying miserably - your hands crossed under your chest. You got inside the car and sobbed. From where he stood, he could hear your blubbering mess. He continued chewing the toothpick in his mouth when he walked over to the car.

He was reluctant to talk to you, but his mama raised a gentleman. He removed the toothpick from his mouth and knocked softly on the half-opened window. Though it was barely a knock, it still made you jump on your seat.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to frighten you, doll. You ok?”

“Oh. Hi, James.” You quickly wiped your tears. “You shouldn’t have seen that.” A clean, well-folded checkered handkerchief on his hand emerged from outside your window.

“No girl should be left alone to cry.”

“Thank you, but I’m fine now. I’ve wiped my tears already.”

Restraining from prying, he changed the subject. “Why are you seated in the back seat?” He must have expected you to drive yourself to see Steve.

“My parents and brother are inside. We had dinner. Why weren’t you there? Only Steve and Rebecca joined us.”

“I was out,” was all he said as if it wasn’t obvious enough. He probably doesn’t care much about what’s happening in the family, and he probably didn’t know about you being pregnant.

Did Steve do this to you? He wanted to ask. But instead, he inquired, “Where’s Steve?”

“In his room,” you sighed, your gleaming eyes filled with resignation. “Could you tell him something for me, James?” He nodded his head. 

“Please tell him…that he knows nothing about women.” He was going to say something in response to that but then your parents and little brother came out of the front door, being ushered by Winifred.

“See you ‘round, doll,” James muttered before leaving you, going unnoticed by your parents whom he walked past in the pathway. Bruce pushed his eyeglasses against his nose bridge upon seeing James coming from outside your side of the car. James smiled and nodded at him as he put back the toothpick inside his mouth to chew. Your little brother smiled with a hint of admiration. This guy’s pretty cool, your brother thought to himself.

Your parents got inside the car still fussing about the last few moments after dinner. Bruce opened the door on your side and sat beside you. When the car drove away from the Barnes’ residence, you somehow felt relieved to be away from Steve, but also missed him terribly. It bothered you that he changed so much after you told him you were pregnant. And it has barely been 24 hours since then.

Bruce clung to you on the way home. He always did this whenever you and your family went for a trip or had a long drive from the city. But this time you felt it from your little brother. He cared enough to be the only person who reminded you that you are loved, even when in your own eyes, you didn’t deserve love because you lost your virginity before marriage and got pregnant at a ripe age of eighteen.

You wished you could disappear, maybe run away. But you knew that you had no idea how to carry a baby. How could you expect yourself to raise the baby without your mother beside you? You still had time. Perhaps tomorrow, or the week after, your parents would let you have your baby without getting married. But what about Steve? How could he take not seeing you? Did he plan on breaking up with you when he was going to leave for England?

So many questions rambled in your head. The answers, however, remained nowhere in sight.


	3. The Other Barnes Boy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> That same night at the Barnes household, James comes inside after seeing you and your family drive off.

Sally’s Diner, Red House, New York. Winter 1942.  
The whole town was in the holiday mood. The Barnes family had finally just moved in after constantly being in and out of town for three years. The Barnes brothers, Steve and James decided to hangout at Sally’s Diner, hoping to see some old friends. 13-year old James was seated at the high stool, talking to Sally, a redhead waitress, and owner of the diner.

“What’s yours, sweetie?” She was met with a bright smile and gleaming blue eyes.

“Do you have some hot chocolate, Ma’am?” James inquired when a young girl about his age sat beside him.

“Could you make that two, Sally? Could I have mine with-”

“Marshmallows? Gotcha, sugar,” Sally interrupted the young girl. Her smile was shining with excitement for the sweet treat. She looked at James and shyly said, “I love marshmallows.”

“Me too,” inserted the older Barnes boy, Steve. The girl gleefully giggled at the tall boy who sat beside him. James looked dumbfounded and glared at his brother. He eyed him. His thoughts said, “You hate marshmallows.”

Sally leaned in front of him.

“Would you like some marshmallows too, sweetie?”

“I didn’t know you had marshmallows.” He loved those things. His mother used to sneak him some marshmallows in his hot chocolate during Christmas morning. Truly, a treat for the boy who willingly plowed their sidewalk after a heavy snow. “Are you gonna charge me extra for it, Ma’am?”

“Nah, for you, it’s on the house,” Sally offered with a wink. James looked at his brother and the girl already talking about going to the school’s winter formal together. He was getting grumpy but he didn’t want to ruin such a nice winter day.

“On second thought, I don’t want any marshmallows.”

Red House, New York. 1946.  
James Buchanan Barnes was…in a word, a rebel. Often timid and quiet, anyone rarely ever knew what was on his mind. Especially not his father, whose focus was directed more to the eldest Barnes boy, Steve. He was the type that often got associated with the town’s lesser promising kids. When his father wanted him to be interested in chess when he was eight, he wanted to play baseball. Steve got into the game of chess, among other things that made Steve the most popular boy in school.

James, however, was a mama’s boy. The ladies in their family didn’t treat him like he was an outsider. But the one person’s approval that mattered to him the most was the one he couldn’t get. It was perhaps, ironic, how James became the young man he was. He badly wanted to feel loved by his father, but almost never did anything he wanted him to do. Perhaps, all he wanted was to be loved without needing to be much like his brother Steve.

That night in the Barnes residence after the brawl, James greeted his mother with a peck on the cheek. The sound of the motor of your father’s car began to fade away. “Is everything all right, Mama?” Winifred sighed, shaking his head. They both got inside the house and James noticed his papa in the dining table. His forehead resting on his palm.

“Hey, pop.”

“Why weren’t you home for dinner?”

“I was out.” George slammed his hand on the table, making the plates and utensils jump and clink.

“Of course you were out! You just got here! I’m asking you where the hell you’ve been!” James didn’t answer. “You were out with your slacker friends again, weren’t you?” James mocked him, flipping the toothpick inside his mouth - being completely unfazed by the threatening tone of his papa. “Answer me, boy!”

“Fine, yes I was out with my friends. Oh, I’m sorry, my slacker friends. There, ya happy?” George finally stood in front of his boy, sizing him up. James, on the other hand, had no idea where his mockery and disrespect were getting him into. George grabbed the toothpick out of James’ mouth, wounding the inside of his lips.

“Ow! Fuck!” The boy grunted, anger erupting in his face, then a slap was thrown into his face, the assault aimed at his lips. His head turned sideways at the blow.

“Do you kiss your mother with that mouth, you little punk?” Still defiant to submit, his eyes glared at his father.

“Bucky…” his mother softly called him and rubbed his back. “Apologize to your father.”

“I’m sorry I cussed, papa.” His apology came out so easily, implying how often this happened but he never bothered doing something about it. George accepted his apology without question in order to get what he wants.

“You’re gonna marry Y/N.”

“WHAT?” He yapped, turning to his mother who seemed to already know what’s going on. “Pop, did you hear just what you said? You’re asking me to marry Steve’s girlfriend? The girl who just went out of our house crying a while ago?!” He pointed his thumb backward, gesturing their driveway where your father’s car was parked a minute ago. “Is that why you specifically wanted me to be at dinner tonight?!”

“No. But since your brother chickened out the last minute, there’s nothing we could do, son.”

“That’s bullshit!”

“Language!”

“Why do I got to do this? Why can’t Steve go? It’s his girlfriend!”

“She’s pregnant son.”

“Wow.” James sarcastically chuckled as he put his hands on his waist and started pacing in the hallway. He rubbed his face with the whole of his palm with frustration. No wonder she was crying. She’s pregnant and Steve’s a fucking coward. Some coward for a golden boy.

“You must really hate me, pop, don’t you? You’re sending me to marry a girl I barely know, who, by the way, is my brother’s girlfriend! Just because she’s fucking pregnant!”

“James! What did I tell you about cursing in front of your mother?!”

“George…let the boy be. You just put him in a very difficult situation.”

“You’re doing this ‘cause you hate me, don’t you? Don’t you, Pop?” His jaws were glued together saying this. “I’m just James, your other son. The expendable one. It’s all right if my dreams are out the window just ‘cause your first-born gotta go to freakin’ Oxford and make his dreams come true! What a father you are.”

“James Buchanan Barnes! I won’t tolerate any more of this tone you’re having with me.”

“But it’s not fair, papa! The baby’s not my responsibility! It’s Steve’s! Whatever happened to taking responsibility for our actions, huh, pop?” His question made his father look down. He turned to the stairs to yell at his big brother. “Hey, Steve! You better get your chicken-ass down here and settle this with Pa!”

James’ body turned around and once he faced his father, he was met with another open hand on his face. “One more line of disrespect, son, I swear, I’ll send you to military school.” George’s tone was now calm but more compelling.

James was never one to do something he doesn’t want. All of his interests - mechanic work, carpentry, and music, never once coincided with his father, forever marking him as the black sheep of the family. Steve, on the other hand, was effortlessly intelligent and easily got interested in what his father wanted for him. Always obedient, except this time, ironically, when his obedience was needed the most. With favoritism being the only obvious reason, George let his eldest son off the hook.

In his whole life, this predicament irked James the most. Getting married at seventeen is not something to take lightly. Hell, what was he thinking? Getting pregnant at eighteen and having to carry the baby alone is something no young woman should do. What would he be doing being Y/N’s husband? How would that work out between the two of them?

What about Steve’s baby? Was he supposed to take care of it? Make himself the baby’s daddy? Is all of that better than the other thing? His thoughts drifted back to his father’s last two words: military school. Anywhere else’s better than here, James thought to himself. It struck him an idea.

“If I marry her…What’s in it for me?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To be continued in: The Deal.


	4. The Deal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James pays you a visit at home two days after the night you had dinner at their house.

Two days have passed since the dinner at the Barnes residence. You were staring at yourself in the mirror as you contemplated everything at once, but not really coming to a specific thought when your brother knocked on your doorstep even though it was open. You turned around to look at him.

“Hey, Bruce. Come in.” He smiled at you and walked over to you and sat on the bed. You moved the stool near your bed so you could be near him. “What’s up?”

“Y/N, are you really getting married?” You shrugged at his innocent question. He knew you were pregnant, but never made a fuss about it.

“I don’t know...this is stupid. Steve doesn’t even wanna marry me.”

“He’s a jerk. I like Beamin’ Barnes better.”

“Beamin’ Barnes?”

“His brother, James. That’s his name, right? Me and my friends call him Beamin’ Barnes ‘cause he’s cool,” he stated with a smile. You looked for his dark brown eyes behind those specs and said, “What did I tell you about these things?” You gently pulled his eyeglasses away from his face and grabbed a clean facial tissue from your dresser to wipe it with.

“You need to keep these clear, okay? You can’t keep these on and still keep bumpin’ anywhere.” He nodded at you before saying, “He’s here for you.”

“Steve??” You jumped at your seat.

“No. Beamin’ Barnes. He’s out on the porch waiting for you. Said he didn’t wanna come in but needed to see you.” You slumped back in your seat then gave back Bruce’s specs to him. “Here. I better go see James.”

When you got downstairs, you gently pressed your skirt down and fixed your top before opening the door, when James stood up from the bench and stroke his hair. He wasn’t chewing on a toothpick this time. He put his hands on his pockets and gave you a small, lopsided smile.

“Hey, doll. Sorry to bother you.”

“How are you doing, James?”

“Was hoping I could talk to you in private. Mind if I take you to Sally’s for a soda?”

“I can’t drink soda, but sure, I’d like to go out right now.”

“We’ll have some milkshake, then.” You smiled at his offer and then went inside the cream-colored Cadillac he drove in.

It was a 10-minute drive to Sally’s Diner and when you arrived, the place wasn’t as packed as it should be on a Summer day. You sat on a corner booth and he ordered you what you wanted - a chocolate milkshake with extra whipped cream and two cherries on top. You hesitated to indulge at first, but a delicious milkshake was definitely a good idea.

The extra cherry was ordered with only a wink at the waitress from his piercing blue eyes. He ordered himself a strawberry milkshake with whipped cream, extra chocolate drizzle, and one cherry on top.  
  
It took you long enough to hold your thoughts. You wondered why James came to see you. _Why not Steve? Why did he have to bring me here?_ As if he read your thoughts, he began talking. “You must be wondering why we’re here. Coming here to see you was my idea. Steve didn’t ask me or anythin’ like that.” For sure, he already knows about you and Steve.

“What did you wanna talk to me about, James? Did Steve say anything? You’re not here to apologize for him, are you?” You badly wanted to ask. But whenever you thought of doing so, you always remembered how Steve treated you since that night in their house. Cold. No eye-contact. Barely any word from him.

He rolled his eyes and chuckled sarcastically. “Of course not.” You could see the resentment in his eyes at the mention of Steve’s pending apology. “I came here to tell you that...” He paused. “Steve already left for Oxford last night.” You gasped at the news he tried hard to break to you slowly.

“And..my pop asked me to do what Steve couldn’t.” You held your breath. When you thought things have already gotten worse, Steve has already left the country. He left you. And your baby. You held your belly and then sighed when you looked at James.

“You mean to tell me...you’re going to marry me??”

“That is...if you’ll let me, doll,” He said with a small, lopsided smile.

Your orders were served to your table as you held on to what he just said. You stared at your glass of milkshake. Your eyebrows furrowed as you thought of this new development. How on earth did he and his family get to this solution??

He started sipping his own milkshake that it almost bothered you that this seemed like some school play that he can easily replace Steve in.

“Did your father put you up to this?”

“Well...Yeah,” he shrugged.

“Then I’m not doing it. I’m not marrying you, James.” You looked away and kept your hands fumbling with each other on your lap.

“Look, I can’t remotely imagine how hard this must be for you, Y/N. But I know you’re being put up to this too. I know your parents would never let you go through this alone.”

You remained silent. He’s right. It has become a daily habit with your parents to talk about getting married. And it’s only been three days since you knew you were pregnant. Two days since that dinner at Steve’s house. _When will Daddy’s sermons end?_

Your eyebrows furrowed at the predicament. Would you really dare marry the brother of your baby’s father? Just for the sake of getting married? Just so you wouldn’t be called a tramp or a harlot again?

“Y/N…”

You looked at him thoughtfully at his call of your name. “Why are you doing this, James? What on earth made you decide to do this on Steve’s behalf?” You demanded.

“Would you at least take a sip of your milkshake first? I feel bad having that extra cherry ignored. Take a sip, then I’ll answer your question.”

You furrowed your eyebrows again as you leaned down to take a sip on your milkshake. It was almost frozen and the chocolate flavor was everything that you needed to taste at such a stressful moment. James smirked as he watched you enjoy your chocolate milkshake and denying it.

_“The Barnes men always take responsibility for their actions.”_ A quote heavily used around the Barnes clan was his only answer. You’ve heard this quote being said by Steve once before. And it annoyed you how he couldn’t live up to it right now when you needed him the most. James went on.

“That night after you had dinner at our place, my pop told me about you and Steve. I’m really sorry, Y/N.” It annoyed you once again, being apologized to. “I know that bailin’ on something, especially on someone ain’t like him at all. He’s batshit scared right now, for sure.”

_You tell me,_ you thought. You stared at him, waiting for him to go on. “Consider this. That baby in your womb is a Barnes. We’re not about to let you go through it all without any help. Our family has responsibility for you and your baby, Y/N. The least we could do is keep our word. That’s what I’m here to do.”

You took another sip of your milkshake as you considered his last statement. He had a point, but still, you didn’t understand why he was willing enough to marry you. There has to be a catch of some sort.

“Do you really know what you’re about to get in to, James? If you’re going to marry me, you’re going to take care of me and the baby. Steve’s baby. Are you really ok with that?” He looked out the window as he thought about your questions. “You’re still a junior, James. You still have two years of high school to finish. I can’t have you drop of out high school just because...your stupid brother knocked me up. It’s stupid.”

He leaned closer across you and put his weight on his elbows on the table. “I should say the same thing to you. I know you’re a strong girl, Y/N. Smart too. But I’d hate to see you do the same thing, just because my bastard brother can’t handle it. At this point, it doesn’t matter who you get married to. M’pretty sure you can’t wait to get out of the house just as I am. If we get married, we can leave town. Maybe go to the city. Start a new life. I’ll help you take care of the baby.”

“As his what? His uncle?” You asked with a tone of sarcasm you only realized after saying. You both chuckled at the thought and shook your head. “What’s in it for you, James? You don’t have to do this because it’s not your baby. And I’m not your girlfriend. You can still live your life as you intended to. Why would you waste it all away? I’m pretty sure you aren’t doing this for me. So be honest with me now.”

James drew a deep sigh. “OK. You caught me. But I wasn’t about to fool you, doll. Everything I said was true.” He paused for a moment and looked into your eyes before saying, “Actually, you’re the one helping me. I’m just returning you the favor.”

“You’re gonna have to be more specific than that, James.”

“If I marry you, I get outta the house. Outta my papa’s sight.”

“That’s it? That’s why you’re going through all the trouble of getting married to me and raising my baby? So you could get out of your house? Isn’t it easier to just run away?”

“I just looked stupid and silly after everything you just said, didn’t I?”

You smiled at him. “Just a little.” 

He smiled back but his eyes shifted to being serious again. “Look. I already told you. That baby is a Barnes. Think of it as a family responsibility which I’m willing to do.” You sighed. Uncertainty still painted on your face.

“I’m not my brother, Y/N. You can take my word for it.”

“I know you’re nothing like Steve,” you declared with a tone of slight disgust, which he did his best not to take any offense from. You realized your words as soon as they came out. “I’m sorry.”

He chuckled in annoyance then turned his gaze to you. “Nah. I’m used to it, doll.” But the hurt is evident in his eyes. “So, do we have a deal?”

“I’ll marry you on one condition.” He leaned in once again and sipped from his milkshake as he waited for you to go on. “You are not to touch me in bed. We’re not going to have sex. Ever.”

James smiled a devilish grin as he bit the cherry from its stem. You furrowed your eyebrows at him as he did this. “And you’re never gonna change your mind ‘bout that?”

“James…”

“All right, I’m sorry,” he put his hands up in surrender. The cherry stem still held by his fingers. “I forgot who I was talkin’ to.” He smiled like a good boy, still chewing on the cherry. “I promise you, doll. I ain’t doin’ anythin’ you don’t want me to.” You drew in a deep sigh and then shook his hand in agreement to the deal.

During the ride home, you and James were mostly quiet. He drove slowly this time compared to when you were on the way to Sally’s Diner. He was a pretty good driver.

“Do you feel full? I know I am,” he remarked, his eyes glued to the road.

“Me too. Could we turn on the radio?” He smiled at you when you asked.

“I thought you’d never ask.” He then turned the knob of the radio. “Mind searching for channels for me, doll? Can’t focus on driving.”

“Sure,” you said and did just that. A big band was playing a familiar tune that made James screech at you, “W-w-wait, wait! I love that song!”

You smirked when you changed back the channel. “Easy Living” was playing. “That’s Billie Holiday. You like her?”

“You kiddin’ me? I love that woman. And I looove this song.” He started singing along to the radio. You watched him singing, completely unbothered that he looked silly.

“I love that song too. I wish she sang longer than the band played,” you mumbled.

“The song is too short,” you both said in unison, startling you.

“I didn’t know you liked music this much,” he remarked.

“Are you kidding? I listen to Frank Sinatra to sleep. Ella Fitzgerald on a bad day.”

“Oh, I love ‘em both too. Ella’s _amazing._ You noticed how she changed her singing style in the past seven years?” 

“Oh god, yes. And I love it that she still sounds so good even with that change. I miss her scattin’, though.”

“I love that stuff. I learned scattin’ because of ‘er.” The wrinkles formed on the side of James’s eyes as he smiled.

After two more songs, you finally arrived at your street. James pulled over under the shade of a big tree right across your house. He turned off the engine.

“Look, Y/N. I know we don’t exactly like the position we’re in. But we can be friends, right? We don’t have to hate each other?”

“I don’t hate you, James. I’m just...sad. Disappointed at your brother. And you don’t deserve to be in this mess. I guess...I should be grateful that you’re here, savin’ my sorry ass.”

“Naw, you’re savin’ mine too, doll. Oh, which reminds me. Since we’ve already agreed, I brought you somethin’,” he handed out a pink rose-colored ring box out of his jacket pocket. “Just to make it official, y’know. My papa told me to let you wear this.” The velvet box revealed a simple but elegant art deco diamond ring on a silver band.

“Would you like to try it on?” He asked. You swallowed on your throat, not knowing what to say. The ring was exquisitely beautiful. But the moment wasn’t...perfect. “It’s okay if you don’t wanna wear it yet. I’ll give it to you anyway. Wear it when you’re around our parents or somethin’.”

“Thank you, James.” You accepted the ring box and closed it.

“I know you’ll look prettier in it.” He had a sincere look in his eyes that you knew you were staring at for too long.

“Thanks. I’ll tell you if it fits well.”

“Just call.” He smiled. “Oh, lemme get your door.” He went out of the car and rushed to your side and opened the door for you.

“You didn’t have to, James.” He laid out his hand to help you from your seat.

“Hey, we have a deal. And I just gave you that ring. That means I’ll always open the door for you.” When you stood up, you both realized the two of you were standing too close to each other. “Lemme walk you to your door,” he whispered, almost stuttering.

You kept the ring box inside your palms. Your arms down as you crossed the street. James brushed his hand over his hair and kept his hands in his pockets. When you reached your door, the skies were orange and the air was getting cool.

“James...are you sure you’re doing this?” Concern painted in your face.

“Positive. I’m with you ‘til the end’a the line, doll.”

“Is that part of your vows? ‘Cause it sucks,” you managed to joke. Another smile drew in your face. He smiled back at you, relieved that you weren’t so sad anymore.

“I’ll think of something better. Nothin’ too cheesy.”

“That’s better. Thanks for the milkshake. And the ring. I’ll call you tomorrow ‘bout it.”

“Anytime, doll,” he winked at you then walked away from your doorstep. You watched him cross the street and get inside the car. He waved at you when he passed by your house and on the way home.

Once you got inside the house, you caught Bruce sitting on the bottom of the staircase, probably waiting for you to come home.

“How d’it go?”

You sighed and then held the ring box tightly. You sat beside him and wrapped one arm around him.

“I’m getting married to James.”


	5. The Wedding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The day of your wedding arrives. But before that, your father had something he wanted you to do.

The wedding was arranged. You had expressed to your mother that you wanted a civil wedding. She sternly disagreed and said, “You will only get married in front of the eyes of the Lord, Y/N. This is the last time you will ask me of this.” You simply wanted to get through it without the unnecessary number of eyes that would witness all this. A disgrace wedding.

Your dress was prepared neatly in your room as your mom helped you fix your hair. You put your simple makeup on. A foundation, eyeliner, blush on, and matte red lipstick.

While most brides look at themselves in the mirror hours and minutes before the ceremony, you were staring outside the window of your room. You asked your mother and the whole entourage to leave except for your best friend, Wanda. The redhead closed the door of your room quietly. “Are you okay?” You sighed deeply at her question, barely blinking.

“What have I gotten myself into, Wanda? I’m eighteen and getting married. And the man I love is not the one waiting for me at the altar.”

Wanda walked to your side and looked at you with searching eyes. “Just so you know, I wish I were a witch so I could put Steve under a punishing spell for hurting you this way. You know I don’t care about this church stuff.” You looked at her. “But I care that you love Steve. This baby was conceived out of love. Maybe not much from him as we know now, but from you. Don’t ever regret this, Y/N.” You sighed again. You found it ridiculous that it’s so easy to get married but so difficult to get divorced.

“Besides,” she added. “Your groom isn’t so bad.”

_**Two weeks ago**_

When you told your father that you would be married to James, he objected. He was concerned about James’ smarts and abilities. He even talked about setting you up with the son of a friend of his, Clint Barton. Your father even went to the point of guilt-tripping you into agreeing to meet him. It took every ounce of patience from you to go without making it difficult for your parents.

Clinton Barton was the youngest son of a rich couple, Harold and Edith Barton. Clint was quite known among kids his age for his outstanding skills in archery. You knew of him yourself but never once met him because he studied in a private school.

You were pacing back and forth in your room, trying to contemplate on meeting Clint Barton. And on what you must say to James. James. You realized you’ve already made a deal and you weren’t even able to argue well enough with your father to convince him that James would be a fine husband. You decided to give him a call. You’ve had a deal anyway. Technically speaking, you were already engaged to him, after all.

After two rings, James’s mother answered the phone. “Hi, Mrs. Barnes? Is James home? It’s me, Y/N.”  
“Oh, hi, sweetie. Hold on, he’s in his room.” It took almost a minute and on the other end of the line, you heard heavy footsteps coming downstairs in a rush.

“Hey. Y/N?” James greeted. His voice somehow sounded different on the phone than in person. It was huskier, a little deeper.  
“James? Hi.”  
“Something wrong? Did the ring fit?”  
“I haven’t tried it on yet. Could you come over? I need to talk to you about something.”  
“Sure, doll. I’ll be right down.”

In twenty minutes, James arrived in the same cream Cadillac car you rode on the day you went for some milkshake. You were already seated on the porch and stood up when he walked towards you. He smiled at you with a slightly worried expression.

“Hey. Everything all right? You sounded worried.” You asked him to sit with you on the porch and he did so and sat beside you. You were holding the ring box he gave you with both your hands, almost hiding it. Then you began.

“My father wants me to meet this guy...Clint Barton. He’s the son of-”  
“I know who he is.” He cut you off, making you look directly at him. His face dropped a little at the thought. “Your father wants you to marry Barton?”  
“Well, yeah, I guess,” you shrugged as you played with the ring box. “I’m still supposed to meet him tomorrow morning.”  
“You sound like you don’t wanna do it,” he remarked, making you shoot a glance at him. You realized he was right.  
“I don’t. I can’t believe someone else besides our families know about me. About this. And here I am looking like some lost puppy who needs an owner or something.” James huffed at your statement.

“You better stop thinking that way about yourself, doll,” he said and grabbed the ring box from you. He took out the ring from the box and offered his hand to you. “Gimme your left hand, would ya?” Without saying anything, you slowly brought your left hand to his, the smooth fingers of your skin sliding on his rough ones. It felt a bit strange being held by someone who’s not Steve. But it was okay. He gently held on to your fingers and slowly slid the ring on your finger. It fit you perfectly. The corner of his mouth raised to form a small smile.

“I told you you’ll look prettier in it.”  
It took you a moment before uttering, “Thank you, James.”  
“Tell you what. Go meet that Barton guy. Consider his chances. I don’t wanna make you feel like you don’t have a choice, Y/N. You always have a choice. You can even choose not to marry me.”  
“What are you trying to say?”  
“I’m saying what I said. Don’t ever think like you don’t have a choice in all this.”  
“Shouldn’t you be telling yourself the same thing?”  
“I should. I got my own life. But if this is my only chance to prove myself that I’m worth something, be something to someone. To you...Then I’m gonna do it.”

You sighed deeply and interlaced your hand with his. He was startled at your action. However, it was your instinct to do it. He looked at both your hands and smiled on one corner of his lips as he observed the ring on your finger. He was startled but felt comforted by the gesture.

“We already make a great couple, don’t we?”  
“I know. It freaks me out, James.”  
“I know...It scares me too.”

***

Your father accompanied you to the town’s clubhouse to meet with Clint and his parents. The muscles in your legs felt restless. You wanted to get out and go back home. You and your father came early enough for you to mentally prepare yourself. You don’t even know what to say. Though it’s clear that your father will do most of the talking.

Harold Barton and his son Clint arrived at the clubhouse thirty minutes after you and your father. Harold was a brunet man with tall stature. He wasn’t what you expected from a rich man. He was all smiles and didn’t have a businessman vibe on him. Clint, on the other hand, was a more reserved young man. He was blonde and looked like his smile costs a million dollars. Your fathers shook each other’s hands and so did you and Clint as you all greeted each other.

Harold drank and ordered margaritas as if it were nighttime. It was only 10 in the morning. Clint had to talk to the waiter to tell him not to give his father any more alcoholic beverages. He paid the waiter $20 and ordered a club soda with lime served on a cocktail glass instead. That only did the trick once before his father noticed the changeup.

Clint was also quiet just like you were, just listening to the adults talk. But he glanced at you several times to watch your reactions to your fathers’ conversation. You looked back at him but didn’t say anything. All the formality has been said and done in much less time than expected. Your father was straight to the point. He clearly didn’t want to waste any more time. So did you. You just wanted it to be over. You felt uneasy. You kept your head down and quietly searched on your purse for the ring box.

“Your daughter seems like a fine young lady. Perhaps may even be too quiet for my Clinton,” Harold remarked. He already sounded like he had cotton balls in his mouth.  
“They can be quiet together, Harold. Wouldn’t that be nice?” Your father replied with a stupid grin on his face.  
“As long as your daughter agrees, I’m fine by it.” You were about to respond but your father interrupted.  
“Does your son agree?”  
You began picking up your breath as you fidgeted with the ring that was already out of its box.  
“Of course, it depends on your daughter, sir,” Clint sternly replied, still observing your behavior.  
“My daughter needs a husband, Harold. And I think Clint here-”

“Why don’t I get a say in this, Daddy? Even Mr. Barton and his son are making me choose. Why can’t you?” You kept your hands down, still fidgeting, but you were already wearing the ring.  
“And what? Let you marry that scumbag? He’s not even through high school! That boy is up to no good!”  
“Sure, because he’s younger than me, obviously. But why do you think he’s taking responsibility in Steve’s place, huh, Daddy? Doesn’t that tell you anything at all?” You began raising your voice. Your father uttered your full name so deeply in his lungs that it made you realize you were still in public. “I’d rather marry someone I know, Daddy.” You turned to Clint. “No offense.”  
“You do not know that boy! You belong in places like this, darling, and he belongs in the dump!”  
“But I know him better already. No conversation will ever be good with you if you didn’t like what you heard.” You turned to the Bartons. “I’m sorry for the scene, Clint. Mr. Barton. Thank you for your time.” You finally stood up. Everyone in the restaurant was already looking at your table. You quickly walked away and headed out. You were able to hail a cab at the entrance as someone went out of one. At that moment, you didn’t care about leaving your father in the clubhouse. You hopped on the cab and it cruised away. You felt better being away from your father. You couldn’t wait for everything to be over. You kept holding on to the unfamiliar weight and feeling on your left hand.

With so many thoughts in your head, you almost forgot how you ended up on James’s street. But here you were, standing in front of their house. On the brink of being emotional bordering on rage. When you walked towards the door, you began hearing a woman’s familiar singing voice. Soft and cool to the ears - you knew who was singing. You smiled as you rang the doorbell. Your mood instantly lifted upon hearing the music.

You looked at the ring on your finger and held it while you waited. When the door opened, you looked up to a slightly flushed James Barnes. The edge of a toothpick coming out of his mouth. His hair was a little messy and he wore a thin, collared striped shirt over an undershirt, and a pair of khaki pants.

You smiled at him. “I didn’t know you liked Jo Stafford, too.” He removed the toothpick from his mouth before uttering, “Guess I should say the same thing.” He smiled at you as he wiped his face with a towel. “Come in. How did the meeting go?”  
“Are you alone?” You asked, taking the hint of his freedom to listen to records on full volume.  
“Yep. I’m cleaning the house, too. I wasn’t expecting company.”  
“I didn’t mean to disrupt your cleaning. Maybe I should go…”  
“No, no, it’s cool. Stay. I’m just about done anyway.”  
“Where’s your mom?”  
“Mama went to the store. And the parlor. She won’t be back for another two hours. Make yourself comfortable, doll. Just listen to my girl Jo. I’m just gonna take a quick shower. I smell like shit.”

You just smiled and then sat on the couch. You looked around the living room and began remembering Steve again. Now that you were here for James, you felt like a stranger to their house again. You started wondering how Steve might be doing now, and if he’s still thinking about you. You remembered that night you last saw him that it made you tilt your head down. The first thing your eyes set upon was the ring on your finger. Suddenly you were questioning yourself if this indeed was a good idea. If only this were an alternate universe where you could choose to raise your child alone or wait for Steve or even chase Steve in Oxford.

James’s footsteps descending on the stairs interrupted your train of thought. You stood up, holding your purse against your abdomen. James’s hair was now damp and slicked back. He now wore a pressed pair of high-waisted khaki pants and a plain white tee with its sleeves slightly rolled up. He ushered you to the kitchen and served you a glass of orange juice.

“Did the meeting go well?” You realized you didn’t answer him earlier.  
“With my father being there? Of course not.”  
“What happened?”  
“I snapped at him for not making me choose. Even the Bartons were kind enough to consider what I thought.” You sighed sharply.  
“What’s on your mind then, doll?” You looked at him. You realized you didn’t exactly process your thoughts yet. All you knew was you didn’t want to get married to Clint Barton. You didn’t want your father making decisions on your life. Now, your sigh was softer but deeper. Almost whispering, James asked, “Do you wanna dance with me?”

Startled, you asked, “What, now?”  
“Why not? It’s a waste of good music. Plus. We got the house to ourselves. No one’s here to yell at us. Or judge us…This ain’t much of a dancefloor, but it’s not like we’ll be swingin’ to Jo Stafford.”  
“All right, all right. You convinced me enough, Barnes.”

He offered his hand to you and you gave him yours. As if you two were in a speakeasy, your motions were shy. As if the two of you had just met that day. “Give Me Something To Dream About” began playing. Your left hand rested on James’s shoulder, and your right was held by his left one. His right hand was on your waste, gently resting there. He swayed you gently and you began to relax.

“I told my father I didn’t wanna marry Clint Barton.”  
“In front of them?”  
“Well, I didn’t exactly say that. I told him I’d rather marry someone I know.” He remained silent, eyes glued on you. You went on. “I asked him why don’t I get a say in all this. That even the Bartons respected my decision. Why couldn’t he?”  
“You stood up to him?”  
“Yeah,” you said in a breath. It just occurred to you that you did. “For the first time in my whole life.”  
“Thatta-girl.”  
“Then I stormed off. And somehow I ended up here. To tell you.” You startled him, making him stop swaying you.  
“Tell me what?” Your hand slowly slid from his shoulder to his chest. You could feel his chest pounding all of a sudden. Then you showed your left hand that bore the ring he gave you.  
“I don’t care if my father’s against it. I’d rather marry someone I can trust. You showed me that in just two days. I barely know you but I can feel that I can trust you. I can trust you, can’t I, James Barnes?”

The look on James’s face was something you’ve never seen before. His lips were parted. He closed it when he swallowed on his throat. He must have been dumbfounded by your honesty, however touching. He gently grabbed your hand and raised it near his face before kissing your knuckles lightly. A smile formed on his face. “You can count on me, doll.”

_**Two Weeks Later**_

Moments before the ceremony, you were finally dressed and made up. A white Cadillac bridal car was parked outside your house. Wanda helped you with your dress and bouquet filled with tulips. You nervously walked across the hallway, slowly, and you descended the staircase gracefully. Your mother was waiting outside the car. Your small entourage, composed of your little brother Bruce as the ring bearer, Becca Barnes, as the flower girl, already left for church.

The wedding ceremony was held on a Tuesday so it won’t interrupt any regular service. It was intimate enough for a church wedding since only your and James’s family and a small group of relatives was invited. Once the bridal car arrived at the church, your nervousness increased. The future was drawing in so near and so quickly that you wished you could just pause the time. Your mother went out of the car and so did Wanda, but you called her at an impulse. She bent towards the window. “Would you please call James for me?”

“Sweetie, you know you’re not supposed to see the groom. Bad luck.”  
“Don’t you think I’m in deep enough shit already? I don’t care. Please, Wanda. I need to talk to him.” Wanda was startled at your scoffing. “I’m sorry. I love you. Please call him.”  
“Ok. You’re lucky it’s your wedding day.” Wanda rushed inside the church and looked for James. You shifted in your seat and fixed your dress. You played with the ring on your finger. It didn’t take long and James emerged on the side of the car. He bent down to peek at you from outside the car window.

At the sight of you in your wedding dress and makeup, James swallowed on his throat before asking, “Hey, doll. You called? You know we’re not supposed to see each other until the ceremony.” You gave him a quick glance and said, “Could you come inside?” James didn’t respond but did as you asked. Suddenly, you noticed he smelled good. Like wood spice and orange. You looked at him now, sitting close to you in his black tux. His jaw was cleanly shaven. His brunet hair was neatly parted to one side. “Are you all right?”

“Are you absolutely sure you wanna do this with me?” Bucky shifted in his seat and moved for his body to face you.  
“I’m here, aren’t I? I’m ready. I’m nervous, but I’m ready.”  
“I’m sweating like hell. And I think I’m about to cry.” But you stopped yourself. James grabbed his handkerchief from his pocket and offered it to you.  
“Go ahead. Least you’re not alone this time.” You glanced at him and then at the white handkerchief that bore the initials, _“J.B.B.”_ You accepted it and brushed your fingers over the embroidered initials.  
“Will I ever know why you’re so kind to me?” Your eyes were now moist. You were missing Steve so much and wished he was the one waiting for you in the aisle.  
“Should there be a reason?” You smiled and shook your head. “I’m with you.” He gently held your cold, sweaty hands. His hands weren’t sweaty, but they felt colder than yours. “I gave you my word, didn’t I?” You nodded. “Do I have yours?”

You drew a sharp breath and looked at him in the eyes. There was sincerity in them. You squeezed his hands and muttered, “You do.”

He gave you a small smile and squeezed your hand back. Then he got out of the car but you grabbed his wrist and told him that he forgot his handkerchief. “Hang on to it. See you at the aisle?” You squeezed the square, white cloth in your palms and then nodded at him. “You better be standing there when I reach the end of it.” He winked at you. By this time, you were already used to his casual winking.

“You got it, doll.”

Moments later, you went out of the car. Both your families waited in anticipation for the ceremony to start. You stood before the door. Holding your tulip bouquet, you drew in a deep breath unknowingly. This was the moment you’ve been dreading. The one moment that would change your life.

The church doors opened and before you stood the small number of family members on each side of the church, looking at you. A harpist began playing a song. They were smiling. But you couldn’t keep looking at them. Your parents stood beside you and so you began walking. Wanda and the small entourage were already standing in position as they await you.

James stood nervously at the end of the aisle. Beside him was Wanda’s twin brother, Pietro, his best man, neighbor, and best friend since childhood. You walked the aisle nervously, your knees wobbling. When every other woman in the world who must be walking down the aisle in their beautiful wedding gown and weeping tears of joy, here you were, weeping sadness deep inside you. Your life unfolding with every step you took.

As the heels of your shoes finally took you to the end of the aisle, you gave each of your parents a peck on the cheek, almost mindlessly as you should have. James stood before you, one hand on his back and the other waiting for yours to hold. When you turned away from your parents and faced him, your hand grabbed his with quite a startling manner — your grip was tighter than you thought it’d be. Your knees still felt wobbly as the moment to say “I do” drew near.

He held your hand tightly enough that you knew you wouldn’t throw yourself out of balance in front of the whole church. “You ready, doll?”

“I’m ready if you are.”

Pastor Phil began to officiate the ceremony. You stared at him mindlessly as he announced to every attendee the true meaning of marriage. With words of unconditional love and respect for one another, Pastor Phil guided you and James to say your vows and finally, your “I do’s.”

With your mind drifting in and out of your wedding ceremony, you were startled when everyone behind you began clapping. “You may kiss the bride,” Pastor Phil said so kindly, his eyes twinkling as he smiled. You and James stared at each other nervously, for you didn’t think of this moment before.

“I know a trick,” James whispered. “Tilt your head to your right.” He held your neck gently with his cold hands and drew you near his face. By the time your lips were barely an inch close to each other, he tilted your head a little more and kissed the very spot where the corner of your lips began. He covered the sides of your mouths when you caught a hint of the smell of his breath. This chaste kiss from his pink lips took long enough for your audience to think you had actually kissed, gaining another round of applause from them.

For a quick moment, he took notice of your startled face. “I told you I ain’t doin’ anythin’ you don’t want me to.”


End file.
